


Coping

by DemonAngelSakina



Series: Grand Designs: One-Shots [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alchemy, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Bar, Bartender - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Mental Instability, Past Character Death, Post-Break Up, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Werewolf, alchemist, alcohol use, past relationship, trying to be a good friend to the broken-hearted, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14222109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonAngelSakina/pseuds/DemonAngelSakina
Summary: "Beau...why the fuck do I still love 'im when he's made it so fuckin' clear that he hates me now?""I don't know, Dante--I just don't know."~Or, post-break up, even the most violent and mad need a friend.





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

> This would technically be set prior to Act 1 in the main story but isn't exactly an "Interlude"...and helps to set up who the HIM is in the Act 3 Interlude, but can be read as a stand-alone.  
> Based from an RP and focused on the aftermath of said-RP's messy break-up between Dante and her ex.  
> At least Dante has some degree of a support system left...even if it doesn't stop her from committing the actions in "Grand Designs".

The brunette man behind the bar glanced out over the crowd--so far...a decent night. Nobody had gotten rowdy despite the large number of drinks already sold--though, the brunette was sure that the reason for the good behavior of the patrons was due to the pair of ravenette twin brothers hanging out near the door...after the two bouncers, Chael and Zhane, had taken a pair of barstools to the collective skulls--and spines--of a group of particularlly violent drunks on night one, most of the others seemed to have gotten it through their heads to 'play nice' or end up in the ICU.

The brunette almost chuckled at that--looking back out over the crowd. The waiters and waitresses were working the tables and, so far, none of them had to break any patron's face...which was always good for business--eventually the bar's owner, Lex, got sick of having to bribe the police about as much as his partner, Cree, got sick of having to get blackmail for when said-bribes failed to secure the bar's future. In retrospect, the brunette had to wonder what the woman saw in the owner...but the pair seemed to love eachother and she was more than able to keep him in check, so it was all good; besides...if Cree wasn't here, the brunette was pretty damn sure that the bar would've gone under night one. Lex had charisma and business guile in spades...business sense? Not so much.

The band was doing well--a good rock band...mixing in a few original songs inbetween sets of cover songs ranging from country to metal. The brunette raised a hand, rubbing at the goatee on his chin--at this rate, they'd probably be open 'til daybreak...and he'd have to send a couple of waiters and waitresses to make sure that the 'rooms' upstairs would hold the worst of the drunks--always better to keep those kind from getting behind the wheel. Just before he could flag over one of the waitresses, he noticed the duster-clad figure that had all-but collapsed onto the barstool--tanned hands gripping tightly into short, shaggy silver hair. 

A frown formed on his darkly tanned face before he leaned over some, reaching a large hand out to gently lay on a tense, leather-covered shoulder.

"Hey...ya wanna talk 'bout it, Dante?"

The silver head raised--khol-lined eyes of cat-like green focusing, for probably the first time in days at hearing the Cajun accent, and locking with the yellow-gold ones of the bartender as a bitter, angry frown appeared on her bronze-painted lips.

"Not really, Beau...I...I just...I just need a fuckin' drink." Came the woman's almost lifeless voice--the Italian accent thick on the words. Beau nodded--taking a moment to study the woman who was barely holding herself together infront of him.

No matter the country, beers and ales were just too weak for her taste--she always called them 'just flavored water'.

She hated wine and champagne--hell, she'd only ever drank them with HIM because it made HIM happy...she personally saw them as 'too weak' and 'too fancy' for her taste; in all honesty, Beau had to wonder if that man even really knew anything about the woman that he always said that he loved if he couldn't even realize that one thing--maybe the guy was just plain blind sometimes.

She liked tequila just fine...but she only drank that when she wanted some 'liquid courage' to get up on the stage, as she'd often joked...but her guitar wasn't even with her tonight--no...tonight she'd need something without the sharp-edged burn...something with a little less pain since, it was obvious to anyone with half a brain in their skull that she was already hurting enough for one night.

Her usual vodka cranberry probably wouldn't do--despite its potency, she only drank that when she was in the mood to have fun...and tonight, she looked like she was having to will herself to not just put a pistol to her temple and pull the trigger.

A glass was set down infront of her--cat-green eyes opening to look at the rich brown liquid as if it were a lifeline.

"One copin' mech on the rocks--double bourbon." Beau said quietly--with how far beyond human they both were, he had no need to shout for her to hear even with the noise of a bar in full swing. Dante nodded and lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip.

"Good year I bet...still too smoky and sweet though." She muttered--not a drop of malice in her tone...and none of her usual light-hearted teasing or sheer smart-assery. Beau leaned some on the bar, muscled arms resting on the granite countertop..

"Dante...ya know we're more 'an bartender an' bar-attendee, right? We're friends...so if ya wanna ever talk ta me, I'm more 'an willin' ta listen."

Dante looked up at the shaggy-haired brunette before giving him a small nod and clasping one long-nailed hand to his own scarred one--her claw-tips barely resting on his rough skin as cat-like green eyes focused on yellow-gold.

"I know...and I thank you. I might just take you up on that...once I get good and hammered."

Twenty-five minutes and twelve double-bourbons later, and Beau was sorely wanting to cut the woman off. This'd all been going on for two weeks now...almost every night, Dante had been coming in and drinking until she finally lost conciousness and passed out facedown on the bar--a feat that had stunned him the first time he witnessed it, considering the silvernette's vampiric origins. Beau raked his fingers through his shaggy, dark hair--vampiric or not, there was no way that Dante's organs and such were too grateful with how much she'd been drinking for the last two weeks. He may be a werewolf himself, but he knew that his own liver had hated him for days the few times that he had ever drank enough to cause himself to pass out, so he couldn't help but think that the experience was any better for her.

"Hey, Dante...ya wanna slow down abit? Ya been hittin' the sauce pretty 'ard the last couple-a weeks an' all."

"Don' care...not much ta fuckin' care 'bout no more."

Beau frowned--with how her accent had taken over and sent her speech to hell, he knew she'd probably been drinking for hours before she'd even walked in the door. He sighed and waved over a couple of the other bartenders to take over, moving around the huge bar to lay a hand on the drunk woman's shoulder as he tried to help get Dante off of the stool.

"Come on now; need ta get ya up ta bed now, mon ami." Beau said gently as he finally pulled her mostly limp body from the bar--hooking one of her arms over his shoulders...thankful that those three inch heels on her boots helped close more of the distance between his six-foot-two height and her five-foot-nine one. Dante leaned against the werewolf's broad chest, muttering bitterly in Italian--mostly curses and such, but nothing directed at him--as he helped her walk from the bar and down the small hallway to the staircase that lead to the second floor.

It took time--Beau wanting to go slowly so that Dante wouldn't completely lose her footing in her heels and take them both down by mistake; he kept one arm firmly hooked around her waist as they climbed the steps--quietly telling her which steps to make and how many more stairs that they had to take to reach the landing...and futher as they made it to the door-lined hallway. He finally stepped up to one of the rooms and carefully shifted the drunken vampire's frame so that he could pull out the key with his other hand--opening the door and finally walking her inside.

"Easy now, mon ami--we're 'ere now." Beau said as he kicked the door shut and walked the silvernette over to the long twin bed in one corner, carefully depositing her onto the clean white sheets. Dante rolled onto her back--khol-lined green eyes staring glassily up at the ceiling of the dimly-lit room.

"Don't go." Dante said, moving to sit up as Beau was about to head for the door. Beau nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed--yellow-gold locking with bleary green.

"Dante--"

"I fuckin' hate him...fuckin' runnin' off on me--'greatest fuckin' honor's gettin' 'is padre's fuckin' job as Death'...fuck if that means he's gonna run off and fuckin' forget me for months at a damn time--start believin' 'is fuckin' padre's hatred towards vampires." Dante said--her words running together some as she hunched over, her arms resting on leather-clad knees. "Fuckin'...start hatin' me..."

"Dante--"

"He found out 'bout me, ya know? Found out...my family's not true vampires--found out from his fuckin' padre that the whole lot of us're just humans...cursed with vampire traits and shit 'cause-a what my bisnonno did back in the fuckin' Dark Ages--ya know the stronzo had the fuckin' balls to yell at me 'bout fuckin' lyin' ta him? I never fuckin' lied--he just assumed!" Dante said through gritted teeth--sharp canines visible and pressed so tightly together that a normal human's teeth would've cracked and broken. She gripped her hands into tight fists--the dagger-sharp nails cutting into her palms; Beau reached over, gripping the tanned woman's hands and forcing them to open again before she drew blood--with how much alcohol she'd ingested, she couldn't afford to begin to bleed out from any wound.

"Dante--"

"...Why do I still love 'im, Beau?" Dante whispered--her eyes closed tightly as long-held back tears began to fall. Beau frowned and carefully pulled the vampire into his arms, hugging her tightly as she kept whispering that single line over and over again. Beau bowed his head, keeping his arms firmly around the other's frame as he tried to comfort his friend through her most recent heartache now that he knew the cause of the want for self-destruction.

Her bandmates' deaths years before had left her broken and hollow--Beau'd learned that those three girls had been her first and only friends, outside of her donor, despite her centuries-long lifespan; their murder in cold-blood haunted her even now--she still believed that if she had moved just a little faster that night, or done one thing different, that she could have saved them...that she could somehow save them even now, ten years later..

But now...with her lover shattering her already-tattered heart into so many pieces and claiming her a liar when, in truth, it wasn't her fault--everyone simply assumed that she was truly a vampire even though she walked freely in the sun...even though she could still ingest food and drink...even though she still fucking drew breath. People just assumed...and her beloved--were they exes now?--had been one of them...even gods have their faults despite what they seem to try to tell themselves.

Beau frowned, watching as Dante fell apart infront of him--he wanted to try to put her back together, if only to save her life...that was what friends were for...to be there to listen and to help to pick up the pieces.

"Beau...why the fuck do I still love 'im when he's made it so fuckin' clear that he hates me now?"

"I don't know, Dante--I just don't know."


End file.
